Charles Hatfield, who, as one of the General’s aides-de-camp, already held the rank of lieutenant, was now invested with a captaincy; and one of the members of the National Assembly happening to die at the time, the constituency thus left temporarily unrepresented, offered to elect him as their deputy. But he felt anxious to return to England; for letters reached him about this period, informing him that Mr. Hatfield’s health had latterly caused serious apprehensions to his relatives and friends;—and the young man accordingly demanded leave of absence for a period. This was granted without hesitation; and Charles Hatfield took his departure, laden with presents from Markham and his family, and attended with their sincerest wishes for his prosperity.
CHAPTER CCVI.
CHARLES HATFIELD IN LONDON AGAIN.
The information which Charles Hatfield had received respecting his father’s health, was too true. Indeed, the accounts were purposely mitigated in order to alarm him as little as possible; and on his arrival at Lord Ellingham’s mansion in Pall Mall, he found Mr. Hatfield confined to his bed.
Charles was greatly shocked at this circumstance: for he could not help fancying that his conduct had contributed mainly to undermine his father’s health; but Mr. Hatfield reassured him on that head by declaring that a severe cold was the commencement of his illness.
“Were I thrown upon this bed of sickness by any fault of yours, Charles,” he said, pressing his son’s hand affectionately in both his own, “your behaviour during your short sojourn in Italy would speedily raise me from it. Not only have the newspapers mentioned your name in a manner highly creditable to you: but General Markham has sent us accounts of the most satisfactory nature concerning you.”
These words were gratifying indeed to the young man.
“I can assure you, my revered parent,” he said, “that I am indeed fully and completely changed. The image of that vile woman whom we will not name, is loathsome and abhorrent to me—and I would as readily come in contact with a serpent, as meet her again. Respecting that insane ambition which animated me at the same time I formed that disastrous attachment,—an ambition which prompted me to aspire to a noble title,—it has all vanished as if it had never been. I have contemplated Republican institutions—I have seen a mighty Prince and all his family lay aside their high rank without regret and abandon their titles with cheerfulness and at their own free will,—I have likewise beheld the magnates of the land following the same example, so that the equality of citizenship may be fully established;—and I am now astonished that I could ever have aspired to mere titular distinction. My eyes have been opened to the fact that men may be great and rise to fame, without those adventitious aids which savour of feudal barbarism;—and I am prouder of that rank of Captain which the battle of Sabino gave me in the army of Republican Castelcicala, than I could possibly be were the coronet of Ellingham placed upon my brow. Oh! how happy should I feel, could we all proceed to Castelcicala and settle for life in that beautiful city of Montoni which I love so well: yes—all of us to fix our habitation there,” continued Charles, with the enthusiasm that was characteristic of his nature,—“you—my dear mother, who received me so kindly—the excellent Earl and his amiable Countess—myself—”
“And what is to become of poor Lady Frances?” asked Mr. Hatfield, with a smile in spite of his severe indisposition. “Wherefore is she not included in your list? Do you think that the Earl and the Countess would leave their amiable and lovely daughter behind them?”
Charles Hatfield blushed deeply as his father thus addressed him.
“Well, my dear boy—you make no reply,” resumed Mr. Hatfield, with the smile—and a smile of ineffable satisfaction it was—still playing upon his pale countenance: “has Lady Frances offended you? Did she not receive you on your arrival ere now with as much kindness as the rest?”